Tumblr and Puns
if cicadas can sleep for 17 years and then wake up only to scream and fuck so can i
THIS INFOGRAPHIC WILL GET YOU KILLED IF YOU THINK THAT’S ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW
HAVE SOME PICTURES:
THIS IS AN EDIBLE BOLETE: (THE FIRST ONE)
It is a king bolete one of the TASTIEST EVER it’s even sold in STORES
this is a DEATHLY POISONOUS BOLETE:
it’s called SATAN’S BOLETE oh look how it’s shaped like the first one oooooh
OH AND THIS IS CALLED A DEATH CAP:
THE SECOND ONE IS PRETTY MUCH RIGHT, FLY AGARICS WILL DEFINITELY KILL YOU
BUT SO WILL MOST GILLED MUSHROOMS
AND IF YOU’RE REALLY SO FUCKING DESPERATE THAT YOU WILL WANDER THROUGH THE WOODS LOOKING TO GET HIGH ON SOME SHROOMS, HERE ARE SOME OTHER SPINDLY MUSHROOMS THAT WILL ALSO KILL YOU
THIS IS AN INKY CAP, IF YOU EAT IT WITH EVEN A BIT OF ALCOHOL IN YOU, YOU WILL DIE
THIS IS AMANITA BISPOREGERA, IF YOU EAT IT, YOU WILL DIE
THIS IS AMANITA VIROSA, ALSO CALLED THE DESTROYING ANGEL, AND FOR A MOTHERFUCKING REASON: IF YOU EAT IT, YOU DIE
HERE ARE SOME OTHER EXAMPLES, ASSHOLES
THIS IS EDIBLE:
THIS WILL KILL YOU
THE POINT I’M TRYING TO MAKE HERE IS DON’T GO BY A FUCKING INFOGRAPHIC YOU FOUND ON THE INTERNET IF YOU WANT TO GET HIGH
JUST SPEND THE MONEY ON SOME FUCKING MUSHROOMS*
*IF YOU ARE STUPID ENOUGH TO GO LOOKING FOR PSILOCYBINS, KEEP IN MIND THEY ONLY GROW ON OR IN DUNG/SHIT/FECES/EXCREMENT AND DON’T THINK THAT IF IT’S GROWING A FOOT AWAY IT’S THE SAME THING, IT’S NOT
I WOULD NOT SHIT YOU ON THIS TUMBLR
I WOULD NOT
here is my infamous mushroom post. god. i’m so glad the original post wasn’t mine, the notes would’ve driven me insane
seriously guys don’t die
PAST LIFE REGRESSION
So this is an actual technique used by some specialized therapist.What they do is hypnotize a person, and the person experiences a series of flashbacks of who they were in their past lives. It does work, and it definitly does help people figure out who they really are. For example, someone who has been afraid of the ocean for their entire life figured out they were drowned in their past life. Someone who felt hurt and neglected by an ex-wife, found that in another life he was her father and abandoned her. It was part of a karmic balance.
If you have a burning question as to what’s going on in your life and why it’s happening, you should try it out. It definitly can help. Find a therapist near you who does this ! Google is your best friend.
At twilight on August the 25th 1999, one week before classes were to begin, Hermione Granger Apparated into Hogsmeade, a wand box clutched under her arm.
Headmistress McGonagall was waiting for her outside the Three Broomsticks. The two women greeted each other warmly, and then set off towards the castle. Or rather, towards the grounds outside the castle.
They chatted amiably as they strolled towards the groundskeeper’s hut. Hagrid, sitting outside and darning a pair of enormous socks, looked up as they approached.
“Good evenin’ Headmistress, Hermione,” he said with some gruff surprise.
“Good evening, Hagrid,” replied McGonagall. “May we go inside? I believe Hermione has a proposition to discuss with you.”
If you had stood outside the hut as the evening darkened and the stars rose into the sky, you’d have heard the rumblings of an argument coming from inside the hut. You’d have heard Hagrid’s gruff refusals, Hermione’s calm (and then not so calm) rebuttals, and the very occasional interjection of the Headmistress.
Hermione did not emerge until the moon had fully risen and darkness enveloped the grounds. But in the light of the nearly full moon, you could see a smile on her face.
The Shrieking Shack was no longer widely believed to be haunted, now that the story of Remus Lupin was fully known. Still, the residents of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts avoided it out of a mixture of respect and residual fear.
This suited Hermione perfectly. The interior of the Shack was now stacked with books and bottles of potion ingredients. A cauldron sat in the corner, a telescope pointed out a cracked window, and cushions lined one wall. A table was covered in parchment, broken quills, ink pots and stains. Once a week, Hermione would apparate into the Shack and go over her notes from the previous session while she awaited her student’s arrival.
Sometimes he was late without explanation. Sometimes he would bring a wounded bowtruckle he wasn’t comfortable leaving on its own. Sometimes Fang would follow him and sit in the corner whining while his master sweated and cursed over a cauldron. Hermione was calm but firm, making adjustments as needed and letting Hagrid’s frustrated words roll off her back like water droplets.
The Hogsmeade residents may have turned a blind eye to the goings-on in the Shrieking Shack, but that didn’t mean they weren’t relieved as time went on and there were fewer and fewer roars of anger echoing through the village.
The OWL testers had been warned in advance that they would have an unusual student that year. That didn’t mean they weren’t taken aback when Rubeus Hagrid appeared on their testing scrolls. They all knew of him of course, knew the role he played in the Second War and of the false accusations leveled against him.
They were worried they would have to be kind.
They needn’t have. No one could have Hermione Granger teach them personally for a year and not improve in all aspects. His potions may not have been textbook perfection, he may not have fully transfigured his toad, but Hagrid had clearly worked hard to master his long dormant abilities.
Rubeus Hagrid may not have followed the traditional path to wisdom. But he had a new wand, the (sometimes grudging) respect of his peers, classes to teach and 6 OWLs.
Including the highest score ever recorded on Care of Magical Creatures.
(written and submitted by ppyajunebug; please excuse me, because I have something in my eye. Oh yes, it is my joyful tears. ppyajunebug has a way of bringing those out of me, you see. Their submissions tackle some of the saddest moments in canon, turning them around and making something beautiful out of them.)
THIS WAS SO STINKIN CUTE EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND READ THIS